Well, hello there!

Hey, Creative peeps! — It’s sure been a hot minute, hasn’t it?

Not to worry, the insane brain possessing all this flesh and corporeal tangibility has not gone away for good, but has rather been in a bout of writing hibernation. And, as it should never logically follow, the snows of New York’s bitter winter have taken me out from my own literary hibernation — and here I am: Fresh from the cave, unkempt, unshaven, and slightly gassy…

(For instance, and for proof of purchase, ever wonder if the phrase “hot-minute” is an unexpectedly clever twist on the Einstein “theory of relativity”?? Oh to dream…)

Yeah, that’s the one!

Methinks this site needs a makeover. And, in due time, that’s precisely what she’ll get, but for today I’d just like to begin anew.

To post SOMETHING, to get the proverbial log-rolling. The hypothetical hypodermic plunge onto its descent. The meteorological transpermia action impregnating forlorn rocks, so that worlds may flourish anew. So, with all that in mind, I began free writing. Just once a day, stream of consciousness stuff — and I’d love to share it all with you. So, and without further adieu, I give you what I’m calling (after a team of wildly untrained organtuans flung poo at a poster board full of words, selecting the vehicles for the prose, leaving the leftover for the title.)

“Influence“

I could smell, but not taste. Feel, but not see. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Yet, I was alive… Wasn’t I?

How long had I been this way? What was the cause? Now, it’s obvious that those two particular lines of inquiry were fruitless — yet it was all my beleaguered mind was willing to offer up. So there I was, slung from my achilles, dangling prostrate, inverted, inert, numb, and left betwixt the cages of parroting inquiry that shut out possible rational thought by endlessly squawking at my ears in turn: “Why”, and “How long”.

I find now that it’s embarrassing to admit…

My training should’ve here kicked in… manacles could always be undone — blindfolds removed, Gags spat out — all things I’d done, and studied, and committed to muscle memory, things I shouldn’t even have to consciously think about to do. Somehow they’d removed my instincts… That’s what they’ve achieved. They’ve engineered a poison to sneak past the blood brain barrier… something that we’ve proved impossible. Or so we thought…

Wait… THATS IT!

I know what’s in the pill! It’s not a medicine, or a drug, or some natural additive… Nothing of that nature could’ve done this. There is however, another, rather sneaky, way to achieve these detriments; sensory deprivation, memory fragmentation, recall haze, non-responsive motor function.

God, it’s so obvious now…

But, with this insight, surely we can win the war!

The only way to do this, to effect all these regions of the mind, without surgery, is to make a placebo… but here’s the twist — the sugar is merely fuel. Or rather food… You ready?